Moon Cursed (Wolf Hollow Shifters Book 4)

by Nikki Jefford

  Elsie straightened her back. “I know I can’t live at Balmar Heights any longer, but I still plan to visit often . . . after I claim a wolf shifter. It’s what my father wants, and it’s what I want.”

  “Lazarus,” William sneered.

  She narrowed her eyes at his hostility.

  “Let me tell you about—” before William could finish his sentence, Wolfrik stormed in naked, seeming to appear from behind the trees.

  William gave a girly shriek and went for the rifle, but Wolfrik beat him to it, snatching the weapon then holding it behind his back. He flashed William a menacing look of challenge, as though daring him to try wrestling the rifle from his hands.

  “Who do we have here?” Wolfrik drawled. He spread his legs wide. Elsie tried not to look between them—she really did. The whole male nudity thing was still a novelty to her.

  Lips pouting, William turned to Elsie.

  “Is this your intended mate?” he demanded.

  Elsie put her hand over her mouth to cover a laugh. The hilarity quickly passed, replaced with annoyance.

  “Wolfrik is a friend. Besides, he already has a mate.”

  William’s eyes pinched together when he scowled.

  “And who is this boy who has wandered in from the woods?” Wolfrik grinned wolfishly. The angry scars across his chest were bright red in the sunlight.

  William stomped his boot on the ground. “I am not a boy; I am a powerful wizard. Want me to demonstrate?”

  “No,” Elsie snapped. “Wolfrik is only looking out for me, same as you.” Grumbling, William set his snarling glare on her. Maybe that hadn’t been the best comparison. Elsie sighed. “I’m not yours to worry about, William. Go home.”

  Smirking, Wolfrik’s eyebrows jumped. “Bye, bye, Willy. Thanks for stopping by and bringing us a gift.” He brought the rifle to his chest and stroked the barrel.

  “That’s mine. Give it back.” William took a step toward Wolfrik.

  The pureblooded male smiled with all his teeth on display, looking eager for a fight.

  “Wouldn’t want you to hurt anyone . . . or, more likely, yourself. These things aren’t meant for boys,” Wolfrik taunted.

  William clenched his teeth. His fingers twitched. Elsie recognized the signs of a wizard about to lose control. She could stop him if she had to, but she’d rather he leave her and her packmates alone.

  “William! Go home!” she yelled. Her own magic crackled through her veins. It stung beneath the surface of her skin. Unlike Wolfrik, she wasn’t itching for a fight. No matter how frustrating, William was still a member of her coven. She knew it wasn’t easy wanting someone who didn’t want him back, especially when it was slim pickings on the mountain. “Please,” she said, voice softening. “I’ll be all right. I promise. I appreciate your concern, but you need to let me handle this, and you need to get back to Balmar Heights. The coven will be worried. My father will wonder where you’ve gone.”

  The storm clouds in William’s eyes swirled, fading slightly as Elsie locked her gaze on his and tried to send him calming thoughts.

  With a frown, William grabbed the open duffel bag and thrust it in front of Elsie.

  “I brought you clothes,” he said moodily.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking it. She didn’t want the garments he’d picked out, but taking the duffel bag felt like the quickest way to get William going.

  He grabbed the backpack and looked at Wolfrik, who hadn’t stopped smirking.

  Casting one more petulant frown Elsie’s way, William locked eyes with her.

  “If you knew the truth about your father, you wouldn’t be so eager to obey him.”

  The prickly sensation returned to Elsie’s fingers.

  William nodded dismissively before slipping on his backpack and heading into the woods.

  “Watch out for wild animals,” Wolfrik called after him.

  Elsie winced, afraid William would turn around and work some foul magic. She had half a mind to smack the pureblood for not keeping his trap closed. All she wanted was for William to leave and stay away.

  She turned a glowering look on Wolfrik, who shrugged and lowered the rifle until one end touched the earth.

  “There are a lot of things out there that would like to make a tasty meal out of a boy.”

  “He’ll be fine. He’s a wizard,” Elsie said gruffly. She just hoped that she wouldn’t have to worry about him sneaking back to the hollow.

  There was only one male who could truly save her.

  Bone-dry dirt dusted Zackary’s nose as he sniffed the cracked earth leading in the direction of a decrepit subdivision. Instinct reared up, urging him to turn around and go back to the safety of the woods. He had yet to catch sight of the bastard but already felt like the old wolf was taunting him. The path Vallen left had meandered through the hollow, circling back across the southern border at one point. For a while, it had seemed he meant to race eastward through the woods before backtracking yet again. Every time the trail jerked in a new direction Zackary fought back a snarl. He couldn’t even run with Tabor and Sasha following on two legs. Tabor wasn’t making things easier with his ceaseless grumbling.

  Now it appeared Vallen had dashed into the abandoned subdivision.

  Every bone in Zackary’s body tightened with dread.

  “Stop,” Sasha said, not sounding happy at all.

  Zackary stopped, but only because it was Sasha, not Tabor issuing the command. Anytime Tabor tried to order Zackary’s wolf, he pretended he didn’t understand.

  “I need you to shift, Zackary,” Sasha said.

  At first, it felt good as his fur receded. A scathing sun glared down on them. It felt entirely different than the one over the hollow. It didn’t take the sun long to form beads of sweat along his hairline as he stood naked.

  Sasha chewed on her lower lip, pupils darting to the subdivision. “He’s in there?” she asked.

  “His scent leads that way.” Zackary frowned, following her gaze to the maze of cement-cracked streets, rusted cars, and decrepit homes with overgrown lawns.

  “Fucking awesome,” Tabor grumbled, gripping the bow he’d brought with him. A quiver filled with arrows rested against his back, strapped across his chest. Sasha wore the backpack.

  “You should keep to this form,” Sasha said to Zackary. “There are too many places to hide. Vallen could jump out and bite you before we have a chance to shoot him.”

  “And what a tragedy that would be,” Tabor said under his breath. When Sasha glared at him, he coughed and said, “Kidding.”

  They both knew he wasn’t. Zackary was reminded, yet again, that Tabor would never allow him to claim Elsie, even if the council amended his punishment. He should stop torturing himself with hope. He should have never touched her. He didn’t know how to come back from that.

  Instead, he returned his focus to the problem at hand.

  “Let’s go in, put Vallen down, and get out of here,” Sasha said. As she took the first steps toward the subdivision, her entire body tensed.

  Tabor jogged ahead of her. Their small group moved swiftly to the outskirts, all talk ceasing. When the first home loomed about twenty paces ahead, Sasha pulled off the backpack. She handed Zackary a fully loaded gun before grabbing one for herself. They’d all practiced firing after crossing the Manama River into neutral territory.

  Sasha had terrible aim, but Tabor’s was spot on with both a firearm and arrow. If he ever decided to turn either of his weapons on Zackary, he’d be dead before he had a chance to defend himself. Weapons didn’t really matter, anyway; Tabor could cast a spell over him as easily.

  At least Zackary had decent aim with the gun, which he was rather proud of given he’d never handled a firearm until that moment. He’d shot inside the circle Sasha had drawn on a tree with charcoal from the fire pit on the edge of the border where Aden and Wolfrik had guarded the human.

  The gun felt heavier than he remembered. Maybe it was the thought of shooting Vallen. He wanted
him dead. Hell, he’d wanted the bastard to die before he went mad. That didn’t make killing his father any easier. Sick dread knifed Zackary in the gut. He had a duty to protect his pack . . . to protect Elsie. Vallen had killed a female very close to where they were posted. What if that had been Elsie patrolling the western hunting grounds?

  Zackary’s grip on the gun tightened. All he had to do was think about Elsie to give himself the motivation he needed to shoot Vallen. He could do this. He could do anything for her. His female.

  He gritted his teeth. He had to stop thinking of Elsie that way. He’d penetrated her, but he hadn’t mated her. Not properly. Not even close. But moon above, for one fleeting moment he’d known such bliss. Being that close to ecstasy would torment him the rest of his days. The least he could do was ensure her safety in Wolf Hollow. Vallen could not be allowed to live.

  “We stick together,” Sasha whispered.

  Zackary nodded. Tabor pulled an arrow from his quiver and threaded it in the bow, keeping the arrow’s tip pointed at the ground as they entered the subdivision.

  Sasha led them down the middle of the street, trampling weeds that flourished between cracks in the pavement. Not that far in, she held her hand up then pointed at a pile of wolf shit in the middle of the road. Its stink rose in the sun. Sasha bent down, inhaling the pile up close before standing again.

  “Maybe a day old,” she noted.

  Tabor huffed. “So, he probably passed through already.”

  “Maybe.” She didn’t sound convinced.

  As they crept deeper into the subdivision, they came across a similar pile of crap. This one stunk a lot more than the first heap. Sasha’s frown deepened as she studied it.

  “This is much fresher, maybe a couple hours old.” She turned her head from side to side, scanning the abandoned homes with their broken-out windows and partially open doors. Paint faded and peeled from every structure. Rotten wood teemed with eager ant colonies.

  “Maybe I should shift to sniff him out,” Zackary offered.

  “No. It’s too risky in here,” Sasha said. She kept her eyes on the houses, ever watchful.

  He didn’t deserve her concern, but that didn’t make him appreciate it any less. Reaching an intersection, they stopped in the middle, studying their options.

  “What do you think, Zackary?” Sasha asked.

  He looked to either side then forward. Vallen seemed to enjoy leading them in circles, having them curve around and change directions. He also liked to run long stretches at a time. Zackary could see him luring them deeper into the subdivision, away from the open expanse of the wasteland.

  “I think we should continue straight.”

  Sasha nodded, leading them down the road. She kept her gun pointed in front of her. Zackary held his at his side. He was ready to lift the weapon in a heartbeat and shoot Vallen dead. The bastard didn’t deserve a Sky Ceremony with the pack. Even fire wouldn’t cleanse his black soul. It probably wouldn’t be difficult to convince Sasha to leave his rotting corpse behind for scavengers to pick apart.

  They advanced cautiously. With the thick tangle of weeds and rubble, they stumbled across a gift Vallen had left for them: a decomposed human arm had been laid out over a patch of pavement as though waving at them. The tissue had shriveled up over bony fingers and turned greenish. Maggots crawled over the rotten flesh, which smelled like putrid fruit. Bile rose in Zackary’s throat, but Sasha studied the dismembered arm with her usual calm deliberation.

  “Based on decomposition, I’d guess it’s at least a few days old,” she noted.

  Tabor’s nose wrinkled and his tongue lurched out in disgust. “What the hell?” He wheezed.

  A pit of unease formed in Zackary’s stomach. “He’s messing with our minds,” he said, scanning the seemingly silent streets.

  Tabor scoffed. “Vallen’s mad. He’s the one with the messed-up mind.”

  Zackary mashed his lips together, jaw clenched painfully. What he didn’t say was that Vallen had been a nasty, violent madman to begin with. Maybe his wolf had built up a certain level of tolerance that made him more calculating than crazy.

  The thought was terrifying.

  “I don’t like this,” Sasha said.

  Zackary turned to Tabor. “Can’t you do magic to locate him?”

  His sister had managed to lead them to Jordan and David after humans abducted them. Elsie’s skills had been nothing short of miraculous.

  “Oh, so now you’re okay with magic,” Tabor grumbled. “I’m not familiar with locator spells and even if I was, I’d need an article of his clothing, which—obviously—is no longer something he has need of.”

  “Could you use some of his scat?” Zackary raised his brows, hiding his grin at the prospect of Tabor scooping up a handful of Vallen’s rank shit.

  Tabor scowled. Guess he didn’t appreciate the suggestion overly much. But before the wizard shifter could object, angry hissing went up in the house to their left. Three raccoons ran out the door and down the steps, skittering along the outer wall toward the back.

  Zackary’s heart hammered up his throat. He held his breath, listening. Despite the risk, he would have felt calmer in wolf form. His senses were dulled on two legs. There was no sniffing the air to detect whether Vallen was in the vicinity.

  Sasha faced the house the raccoons had vacated, gun aimed at the partially open front door. Zackary questioned how well aimed. She nodded her chin at the now silent house.

  Tabor’s lips drew back. “We can’t get too close. We need Vallen to come out in the open.”

  “We can’t stand out here in the baking sun either,” Sasha said. “Do you know any spells that might help our situation?”

  Zackary, along with the rest of the pack, had been forced to make their peace with Tabor being part wizard. It had made him nervous before. No one should have the power to harm packmates in unnatural ways. Zackary had once gotten a dose of Tabor’s magic when the half shifter had cast a spell that lifted him right off his feet and sent him flying backward onto the ground. To be fair, Zackary had been coming at him with a switchblade after threatening to cut out his tongue. He hadn’t intended to go through with it. He’d only wanted to scare Tabor after watching him strut around making his usual insults and threats. He’d always been too damn cocky and never tried to make friends with other shifters, not counting running off to the den to be coddled by Heidi.

  Now that Zackary had begrudgingly accepted Tabor’s power, he had to agree with Sasha that this would be a good time to use his advantage.

  The half wizard stared at the house with a frown. “I could send him flying back or knock him unconscious, but I still need him out in the open.”

  “He won’t make things that easy,” Zackary said.

  Tabor scowled. “He might not even be here. He might be halfway to the city by now.”

  “Then what scared those raccoons?” Sasha hissed.

  “Us?” Tabor’s brows lifted.

  She shook her head. “He’s still here. I can feel it in my bones.” She looked at Zackary for confirmation. He wasn’t entirely sure, but there was no denying the hairs prickling the back of his neck.

  “I’ll go first,” Zackary said.

  Jaw tight, he stepped over the cracked pavement leading to the half-open door. Typically if creatures were running away from a place, it was a good idea to do the same. Sasha and Tabor followed close behind. No one spoke as they reached the sunken stone steps leading to a small square of pavement in front of the door, which leaned inward as though it had been left propped open for them.

  Zackary’s heart pounded like one of the drums during full moon ceremonies. It beat inside his ears. To calm himself, he visualized what he would do if Vallen were waiting inside. Zack was a big man. Maybe he could tackle Vallen and crush him with his body. He’d no doubt get bitten and clawed, but his wounds would heal.

  One last time, he thought.

  Once Vallen was dead he could never hurt him again.

&n
bsp; Shaking off the dread, Zackary bounded up the stairs and shoved the door against the inner wall of the house. Sasha and Tabor ran in after him.

  Furniture had been knocked over and stuffing torn out of the upholstery in a large living space to the right. Rugs, pillows, decorations, magazines, and lampshades were strewn all over the floor. Zackary didn’t need to be in wolf form to pick up the putrid smell of urine and feces. How many animals had used this spot as their dumping ground?

  A quick scan of the living room produced no snarling wolf foaming at the mouth. Zackary glanced up a set of stairs leading up. Seeing nothing on the landing above, he bounded down a hall leading to the back of the house.

  Sunlight filtered in through a dirty window above a rusted sink. The cupboards were all open and empty—same with the drawers. An oval wood table was set up beside the kitchen, but there were no chairs.

  Zackary turned away. There was nowhere to hide in this space.

  A vicious snarl and a scream pierced his ears. Zackary ran with thundering steps back to the living space where he found a crazed wolf on top of Tabor, fangs sank into the shifter’s shoulder. Sasha pointed her gun at the pair, causing Zackary’s heart to seize. She was as likely to kill her mate as Vallen. All he could think about was Elsie breaking down into tears if her brother died.

  “Wait!” Zackary bellowed as Sasha fired.

  Fuck! He couldn’t tell where the bullet had landed.

  Vallen gave a growl, jaw still clamped over Tabor’s shoulder, unwilling to relinquish his prey.

  This time Sasha didn’t try aiming for the pair. She lifted the gun, firing again. A crash of glass followed. Vallen growled louder. Sasha fired again then grabbed an overturned plant pot off the ground and threw it at Vallen, striking him in the back with better precision than the bullets.

  Vallen released Tabor with an ungodly snarl, his muzzle jerking in Sasha’s direction.

  “Come get me, Vallen,” she seethed, raising the gun.

  Free from Vallen’s fangs, Tabor’s hands shot up. Before he could get a grip on the mad wolf, Vallen snatched Tabor’s hand in his jaws and clamped down. Tabor shrieked. Zackary’s heart lurched as he heard the sickening crunch of bones.